New Wave Swamps River Regulars

As Commuters Abandon The Crawl Stroke Of Lower Wacker Drive, The Sudden Jostling For Seats On The River Taxis Has Disturbed The Reverie And Sensibilities Of Longtime Riders, Who Prefer A View Over Velocity.

June 13, 1999|By Kirsten Scharnberg, Tribune Staff Writer.

Linda Jarvin owns a padded seat cushion emblazoned with the words, "Commuting doesn't have to be a pain in the butt." And for a decade, a delightful, easy-going decade when Chicago's maddening traffic was excruciating for everyone else, it never was for her.

To get from her home in the western suburbs to her job downtown, the advertising executive traveled first by land. Then by water. And sometimes she arrived at her desk with a tan.

Then Wacker Drive went under construction, and everything went downhill from there.

The masses descended.

The scarcely used Riverbuses filled to capacity.

And the whole concept of a laid-back, waterfront commute sank right to the bottom of the Chicago River.

The idea of a Riverbus, of course, is nothing new.

Wendella Boats--the mom-and-pop riverboat tour company that is a Chicago institution--has ferried rush-hour commuter vessels between Michigan Avenue and Union Station since the 1960s.

But during more than three decades of service, only a couple of hundred faithful customers--folks like Linda Jarvin who cared about scenery as much as speed--routinely used the alternative commuting option each day. "To and from the train without the strain," was the slogan of the half-empty Riverbuses.

Longtime passengers all got to know each other. They got to know the boat captains and deckhands. And no one ever had to stand in the aisles, because there were always plenty of seats to spare.

Then, about a month ago--when the heavy equipment and construction signs moved onto Wacker Drive and threw express bus and taxi schedules into a tailspin--hundreds of new people suddenly started to line up for the commuter boats.

"We more than doubled business in the course of a week," Steve Borgstrom, boat captain and grandson of the man who founded Wendella Boats back in 1935, said last week. "This is unreal."

The river commute has grown so busy that Wendella Boats recently ordered a $200,000 boat from Florida to add to its commuter fleet, and the company expects to launch a 7-day-a-week service that will go to River East by the end of the month.

"Now this is the way to get around," said a tanned Neil Matthews, an insurance executive among the new wave of Riverbus commuters who say they won't go back to the bus even after the two-year Wacker construction project is completed.

Last week, for the first time in 30 years, a Riverbus captain leaned out his wheelhouse and shouted, "We're about full, folks. You'll have to wait for the next one."

And, with that, Jarvin's catchy seat cushion became a relic.

Now, with a hint of a sneer, Jarvin observes the well-dressed newcomers invading her commuting territory.

"Look at them," she said on a recent afternoon, moving port side. "They think they're riding the Metra."

Jarvin is right. It's easy to discern the new Riverbus commuters. They're the ones who pay in cash--$1.50 a ride--instead of flashing the monthly $32 pass, and they don't know any of the crew by name. They read accounting reports instead of sitting back to take in the view. And they do indeed start to crowd around the exit well before the boat nears the dock.

"They think this is like any other commute," Jarvin said. "But it's not. They just don't know it yet."

The Riverbus--where once a year the staff has someone dress up as Santa and hand out afternoon snacks to the customers--is anything but the typical impersonal commute.

Unlike on the "L," where the conductor's far-away voice is often unintelligible, the deckhands on the Riverbus personally greet everyone as they board. And the view of the Chicago skyline is quite a bit prettier than the sight of a sweaty guy crammed between you and the train window.

"All aboard," came the captain's order.

Wading through the crowd toward her usual position on the second deck, Jarvin approached Borgstrom, the captain for the day.

"What's up with this crowd?" she joked.

"It's the Wacker construction," he said, peering out over his packed boat from the elevated wheelhouse. "Now you old-timers play nice with the new kids."

"I always used to take the bus or a cab because they're so quick," she says. "This morning it took 40 minutes because we were stuck in the gridlock known as Wacker. So now I'm trying the boats."

Like most of the new riders, Albergo hasn't yet learned the names of the boat's crew. Or their stories. But all the regulars know to stop by the wheelhouse, where the true quirkiness of this alternative commute is best illustrated.

Sometimes there's a woman named Tugboat Granny running the show. Granny, a.k.a. Rose Adele Arlitt, is one of the commuter boat captains. The nickname comes from her e-mail account, which she set up so she could chat on-line with her 8-year-old grandson, Jeff.